


sitting on that distant shore

by TrekFaerie



Series: 000 [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Complicated Relationships, Domestic Fluff, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Future Fic, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 16:15:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19908574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrekFaerie/pseuds/TrekFaerie
Summary: Uriel just wants to train her rabbit and kiss her girlfriends.The other archangels want her home.





	sitting on that distant shore

**Author's Note:**

> just a little extra idea i had that wouldn't leave me be
> 
> also i suck at series names even more than i suck at fic names so WHATEVER it's just some fucking random 0s and shit

Uriel was an angel – an _archangel_. She was the flame and the light of her Lord, God. She had guided the prophet Enoch. She had carried the infant John the Baptist in her arms. She had brought the final plague upon the slavers of Egypt.

Arnebeth was a rabbit. And yet, he was winning.

Two years prior, a local farmer’s daughter, who raised rabbits for show, had found her prized Jersey Wooly unexpectedly pregnant. One of the kits had moved into Jasmine Cottage, where he now had three mothers: Anathema, who fed him greens from her salads and liked to rest her books on his sleeping body; Dagon, who joked about eating him but also took her excessive naps with the rabbit cuddled up to her side; and Uriel, who was trying to train him to not poop, specifically and with seeming conviction, on her Bible.

“Rabbits,” she said firmly, holding Arnebeth up to eye-level, “belong on the floor.”

She placed him there. The rabbit stared at her for a solid thirty seconds, hopped up onto the couch, and flopped next to Anathema, who was reading a book on Area 51. Not even looking up from her reading, she began giving him scritches behind his cute little ears, which made him kick his legs out in pleasure.

“You’re undermining my authority again,” Uriel said, crossing her arms. “We need to be a united front against his willfulness.”

“He’s a rabbit.” Anathema was entering her early 40s with amazing grace and dignity; she had a fashionable streak of grey in her dark hair, and her glasses were becoming more and more necessary, but she was otherwise very much the same woman Uriel had briefly considered fully Falling for. “He doesn’t even know what you’re telling him. He doesn’t speak human words.”

“I can speak to all of God’s creations,” she said, kneeling so that she could look into his smug little eyes. “And this rabbit is telling me, ‘I don’t have to listen to you, Uriel, because I know my other mummies will stop you from ever punishing me. I like being a disobedient little rabbit.’”

“Is he really?”

“Maybe not in so many words. Nose twitching is a bit logographic.”

The day was shattered by a scream, like someone was being murdered in their front garden. Which wasn’t necessarily an issue – until they realized the scream sounded, not like a salesman, but like Dagon herself.

They ran out together, and Uriel’s worst nightmare was coming true before her.

Dagon was curled up in the grass, the weight of a celestial collar pulling her to the earth, burning the flesh of her neck. Anathema made to run to her side, but fell, immediately unconscious, just a few steps in. Gabriel smiled as she hit the ground.

“Well,” he said, “that was much easier than I expected it to be.”

“Gabriel.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “Michael. Sandalphon… Phanuel. It’s been a very long time.”

A slim, dark angel, carrying an extra collar, smiled at her. She hadn’t expected to see her, but she could see why she would, specifically, be called in; the control of demons was rather her specialty. For her sake, Uriel hoped Dagon would know enough to cease her struggles; it would only make it worse.

Gabriel was the only one who walked over to her; the others hadn’t even walked into the garden yet, were just peering in from their awkward little huddle just outside the gate. He clapped a companionable hand on her shoulder. “Uriel!” he said brightly. “Sorry for just dropping in like this, really hope you weren’t in the middle of some important… angelic business or something, but… We’ve come to take you home! Let’s get a move on!”

He expanded his wings, ready to take flight; when she didn’t immediately follow suit, he folded them back in, his smile already starting to crack at the edges. “What’s the hold up?” he asked. “Let’s go!”

“I’m.” She paused, wondering. Clearly, the jig was up; continuing to pretend that she was still following her original mission was an insult to both of their intelligences. “I’m needed here.”

“You’re needed in other departments! Besides…” He looked down, distastefully, at Anathema and Dagon’s prone forms. His voice lowered, but she knew the others could still here. “I think we both know… This little indulgence of yours? The little phase, with the human pet you’re sharing with that demon? It can be water under the bridge, Uriel! Forgive and forget, right? We’ve all had our little… _moments_ , over the millennia. You can get right back onto repenting for your transgressions when we all get back Upstairs…”

“I’m not repenting for anything.” How was it so easy to keep her voice level? Perhaps the steady rise and fall of Anathema’s chest… The whimpers Dagon made as the fight left her… “And I’m not leaving. You’ll be the ones leaving; none of you are welcome in this place. Not right now.”

“I see.” He sighed, deeply. “You leave me with no other option… Sandalphon.”

He was at Gabriel’s side instantly. She tightened her jaw.

“Take her.”

She didn’t move. She stood, hands at her sides, shoulders squared, making direct eye contact with Sandalphon as he moved towards her… And, in the end, he was the one to break that contact, his hands stopping just before they would have grabbed her by the arm.

“… Gabriel,” he said. He was staring at the ground, brows furrowed.

Gabriel scoffed. “Is something wrong?” he asked. “Because the only wrong thing I see right now is that _God’s own enforcer_ isn’t doing any enforcing!”

“I can’t just…” He threw up his hands hopelessly. “She’s _Uriel_ , for God’s blessed sake! What would you have me do?!”

She let out a breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

“Uh, your job? Maybe? I might just be crazy here, expecting highly elite archangels to do their jobs…”

Michael’s lips were drawn into a thin line. It was an expression of disapproval that Uriel had seen aimed at countless lesser angels in the past, but had never seen directed at her.

“Uriel,” she said, passing by Gabriel with a soft pat of the arm. Her voice was soft and sweet, cloying. “You have to come home now. You had your fun, but we have important business to attend to.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Now, now, dear… That’s not very good of you, is it? It’s… This is something a _Fallen angel_ would do, isn’t it? And you don’t want to be like that. I know you don’t.”

At that, she laughed.

They all seemed taken aback by that, but she couldn’t tell if it was because of the situation, or because none of them had ever heard her laugh before. She wasn’t sure she’d ever done it, before she’d come to her Earth, to her human, to her demon.

“Did you really think,” she said, shaking her head at the absurdity of it all, “that would work on _me_?”

She looked at them, smirking. Gabriel, furious behind his fake smile. Sandalphon, visibly shaken, looking to the others for guidance. Michael, thrown completely off by resistance. Phanuel… Well. She hadn’t even come into the garden. Wasn’t her business, after all. She wasn’t one of _them_. Had never been one of _them_.

Uriel, however…

“Did you forget who you were dealing with?” She could feel just a bit of her human form slip away; her eyes shined golden fire, reflecting on their faces, and her wings spread wide and glorious. “Did you think you were dealing with some measly little principality, some lesser angel that would fall for your guilt, for your pain? Did you seriously think that you could bully _me_?”

Her wings beat once, twice, kicking up the dirt of the garden, _her_ garden, and she could feel her feet leave her soil, pointing down as she threw out her arms.

“I am the **Archangel fucking Uriel**!” she said, and there was The Power in her voice. “I am the Fire of God! The Angel of the Presence! Prince of the Seraphim, and Angel of Retribution! Do not think that you can tell me what I can or cannot do, for I have been with you since the Beginning, and I know _all our dirty little secrets_!”

Normalcy returned. Her feet touched terra firma, and she was glad of it. She wouldn’t care to ever leave it again.

“And if you don’t want certain other beings knowing about certain matters,” she said, giving them each a smile in turn before closing her eyes, “such as, well… I think there would be quite a lot of trouble for all of you, if everyone knew how long it had been since She had last been on her throne, hm? Perhaps you ought to take that into consideration, before you dare to bother me this way again.”

When she opened her eyes, they were all gone.

And, well. That was that. For now, at least. Always for now.

Dagon groaned, struggling to sit up. Uriel kneeled next to her; divine intervention would only increase the hurt, but it didn’t stop her from miracling up a little bit of antibiotic cream. “Shh,” she said. “Let me help. You won’t be able to heal this yourself; only time and care.”

“The human way, then.” She leaned in slightly to the soft touch on her neck. “… What you said, to those other angels… is She really…”

“If I find out that anyone from your side has even heard rumor about it,” she said lightly, smoothing the cream into the wound, “I shall take you to St. Peter’s Basilica and submerge you in the basin of holy water myself.”

“… Got it.”

They lay next to Anathema’s unconscious form in the garden until nightfall, when the angelic power began to fade and she slowly roused from her slumber to find her angel and her demon – both a little worse for wear, in different ways, but smiling at her, and kissing her, and determined to not let any force lesser than God Herself tear them apart.


End file.
